Anderson laughed. “Well, if anyone can tame him, I'd bet money on you.”
“Hilarious,” Sawyer deadpanned, and his fingers pressed a fraction firmer against my spine.
“Surprised you could make it with your tour schedule.”
“The things you do for love.” The words came out breathy—too breathy—as I rose to my toes and pressed my lips to Sawyer's cheek. His skin was warm, smooth, with the faintest hint of stubble.
He went rigid. I caught the flash of confusion in his eyes before he smoothed it away, his arm tightening around me. “She's incredible, isn't she?”
“Seems like it.” Anderson clapped Sawyer's shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Ellie.”
“You too.”
The moment Anderson's back turned, I stepped back—or tried to. Sawyer's hand lingered on my waist for a beat too long before falling away.
His voice was low. “What the hell was that?”
“What? I was selling it.” I crossed my arms, defensive. “You know, the whole fake relationship thing we agreed to?”
“Ellie.” He dragged a hand through his hair, messing the careful styling. “He knows.”
My stomach plummeted. “Knows what?”
“That we're faking.” He leaned in, close enough that I could count the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “I’m almost certain Anderson knows this whole thing is bullshit.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “And you just—you let me throw myself at you like that?”
“Let you?” His laugh was sharp, disbelieving. “You went rogue. That was all your improv, baby girl.”
I shoved his chest with both hands, probably harder than necessary. He barely moved, but his grin widened, infuriating and boyish. He caught my wrists, his thumbs grazing my pulse points. The touch sent electricity racing up my arms, and from the way his eyes darkened, he felt it too.
Sawyer muttered, “West,” as a man approached us with teeth so white, they practically glowed.
“Ellie Miles,” the man said, taking my hand and lifting it to his mouth. “I’m Adam West. So nice to meet the woman who’s got this guy going crazy.” He kissed the back of my hand and turned to Sawyer. “You clean up nice.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Sawyer shot back, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
Another man appeared, younger, radiating easy confidence and expensive cologne.
“Oh, great,” West muttered. “Trouble’s here.”
“If anyone’s trouble, it’s you,” he fired back before turning his gaze to me. “Nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Jaden Bronx.”
“Ellie,” I replied, shaking it.
Sawyer’s hand never left my back. If anything, it pressed a little harder. “These are my teammates. Shit-stirrers, every last one. Don’t believe a word they say.”
West rolled his eyes. “How’s the new house?”
“It’s good,” Sawyer said. “Renovations are going well. We stayed there for Christmas. Still a few things to fix up over the next couple of weeks, but it’s shaping up to be a solid spot to settle down.”
I smirked. “Full of stories too.”
West’s eyes went wide for a moment before he cleared his throat. “What kind of stories?”
Sawyer shot me a mock-annoyed glance. “Yeah, it’s got a…history.”
West leaned in way too close, voice dropping to mock-serious whisper. “Come on, spill it. What kind of history? Murder? UFO sightings? A family of raccoons running the place?”
